


Bad Valentine

by kcstories



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fluff, HP: EWE, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the war, it was the hero who needed rescuing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The Potterverse is JKR's, not mine. Written for fun, not profit.  
> **Warnings:** AU-ish (written before DH came out). Fluff. Flangst. Mention of past character deaths/aftermath of war.

"Look, lad, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you've had more than enough booze for one night."

"Naah. I haven't had nearly enough," the dark-haired young man sitting on the bar stool declared with a slur. He slammed his fist down on the wooden counter and added, "Give us another, Guv!"

"No can do, mate," the elderly landlord said calmly. "I'm calling you a cab. You're going home."

"I am _not_ drunk!" he protested again, a lot louder than necessary. People were beginning to notice and, as was generally the case on such occasions, stare.

"Yeah. You are."

The customer was fast losing his temper. "Hey," he spat, wagging a shaky finger at the man behind the bar. "Don't you even realise who I am? I'm…"

"Now listen here, mate…"

"It's fine," a third, posh sounding voice interjected. "I'll make sure he gets home safely."

"Friend of yours?" the landlord enquired, giving the newcomer a quizzical look. The tall, blond man was immaculately dressed and had an aristocratic air about him. In spite of that, though, he seemed to blend in perfectly in this lacklustre London pub, not drawing any attention to himself despite his appearance. It was almost as if he were invisible to some.

"Let's just say he's an old acquaintance from school and leave it at that." The words were spoken politely and yet also in a way that didn't leave much room for argument.

The landlord just nodded, waving a dismissive hand.

"Come on, Potter," the blond man said, turning his attention to the man at the bar who was staring off into space, an odd smile now gracing his lips as if he had already forgotten what he had been so furious about just a few minutes before. "We're going home."

"Don't want'a," came the childlike protest. "Besides, you've got nothing on me, Malfoy. I don't have to do as you say."

"Perhaps not." Draco smirked. "But you're going to come along regardless, Potter." Taking charge, he grabbed Harry's arm and all but dragged him out of the small pub.

Too baffled and intoxicated to react, let alone struggle, Harry found himself standing outside on the pavement, face to face with someone he hadn't seen in well over five years, not since the war, and frankly, someone he hadn't expected to lay eyes on ever again.

"Where to, Potter?" Malfoy asked

"Wha-bluh-huh?" Harry said gracefully.

Malfoy fought the urge to roll his eyes. "All right. Let's try this again. Where… do…. you… live?"

"Um. 16, Jones Square."

Malfoy frowned. "That's the Muggle part of the city, isn't it?"

Harry simply nodded.

"Very well." He took hold of Harry's arm again. "Do you have any Wards up?"

"What?"

"Wards. Around your house? That would prevent someone from Apparating in?"

Harry bit his lip. The chilly February air was starting to sober him up, just a little. "No," he finally said. "I don't have to bother with those anymore. There's no need."

"I see. Right." Malfoy took a deep breath. "Off we go, then."  
****  
Feeling groggy, but not terribly so, Harry gingerly made his way downstairs. The events of the previous night were slowly coming back to him.

Valentine's Day in all its rotten glory. Getting smashed in the East End, all alone, another year alone, and then Malfoy showing up, of all people….

Harry shook his head.

The more he thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed like a dream or a tacky scenario from an equally clichéd film.

Harry vaguely remembered being put to bed and having a vile-tasting drink poured down his throat; some kind of potion, probably, which would explain why he wasn't the least bit hung over this morning.

He was just confused. Extremely confused.

He walked into his living room to find Malfoy sitting on the sofa, casually flicking through a magazine and looking like he owned the place.

Apparently, some things never changed.

"Ah, Potter," the man said offhandedly. "You're finally awake."

"Um, yeah. What the…" Harry took a deep breath. "Why did you help me last night and why the bloody hell are you still here?" he blurted out. He realised this wasn't the most grateful thing he could have said, but this whole situation was simply too surreal for words. If Malfoy was merely there to mock him, he might as well get it over with and quickly be on his merry way again.

Draco shrugged. "Frankly, Potter, last night you looked like you needed the help, and I stayed until morning because I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Oh."

"So." Draco put the magazine back on the coffee table. "Are you?"

Harry frowned. "Am I what?"

"All right."

He frowned again. "What's it to you, Malfoy?"

Draco smiled; a genuine, disarming smile, nothing like the vicious sneer Harry recalled from their time at Hogwarts. "If you must know, I drank a little too much after the war. Thankfully, Remus was there to help me understand the error of my ways."

Harry gasped. "Remus? You mean Remus Lupin?"

"Indeed," Draco said, crossing his arms.

"But how did you two…? You weren't in touch during the war, were you?"

"No. We weren't. It's… a fairly long story. Basically, we ran into each other again, completely by chance, about two years ago. I suppose you could say he and I were in the same boat at the time. I'd just lost one of my oldest and closest friends. I don't know if you ever heard, but Blaise died after…" Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. "Well, he'd been seriously ill for a while. And Remus had just lost Tonks, too. I'm sure you knew... about that..."

Harry nodded solemnly. He'd heard about the raid that had cost her her life. A few important fugitives had been captured that night, but regrettably at a very high price.

"Anyway," Draco went on, "we ran into each other in some Muggle pub, not unlike the one you went to last night, and got completely sloshed. Somewhere in the middle of it all, we also became friends. I'm surprised he never told you."

Harry shrugged. "I haven't been in touch with a lot of people from school these past few years. Hermione and Ron come over now and again, usually when they want to set me up with one of their single friends, usually an Auror or a mediwizard." He gave a wry smile, not stopping to consider why he was even telling Malfoy all this and inadvertently outing himself in the process. "But I suppose… Well, I'm not exactly the most sociable person around these days."

Draco nodded. He could definitely relate to that. Pansy had tried to make him go on blind dates, too, and more often than not, the bloke turned out to be some opportunistic wanker whose main interest lay with the Malfoy fortune.

Yes, he loved his best friend dearly, but that didn't change the fact that even seven years in Slytherin hadn't taught her the first thing about people or relationships.

Impulsively, Draco stood up, reached out and ruffled Harry's hair. He wasn't sure why he did it, except that it suddenly seemed appropriate.

"So, Potter," he said, "how do you like your eggs?"

"Huh? What?"

"Eggs. Oval things with a white, beige or sometimes brown shell. Produced by chickens in this case. I spotted the milkman a few hours ago and bought some."

"Ah. Um… You're…" He almost laughed. "You're actually offering to make me breakfast?"

"That's right."

"Um. Okay." This time, Harry did chuckle. "Can you do scrambled?"

"Naturally."

Harry smiled. "You know, I didn't even know you could cook."

Draco smirked. "Oh, but I'm full of surprises, Potter."

Harry got the distinct feeling that he was about to find that out for himself as well.  
***  
Sitting at the kitchen table. Harry eagerly tucked in. "Which hangover potion was it that you gave me?" he asked, again surprised that he had no headache or nausea to speak of.

"One of my own, actually," Draco said with obvious pride.

"Oh. You work with Potions now?"

"That's right. For an apothecary, though. I doubt I could handle the hassles of teaching."

Harry smiled. "No. I don't think I could manage that, either. Some students can be right brats."

Draco smiled back. "Yes, particularly those of the infuriating Gryffindor variety."

Their eyes met across the table and Harry felt a little giddy. Having Malfoy—no, Draco—here like this was surprisingly nice. Harry hadn't felt this relaxed in a very long time.

"Listen," Draco said, breaking a strange sort of silence. "I have to go home in a few, feed my cat and see if there's any important mail, but…" He hesitated.

"But what?"

"If you're free tonight, how about dinner?"

"Dinner?" Harry was dumbstruck.

"Yes," Draco said. "I could book us a table at a restaurant or we could order something to be brought here if you'd rather not have the company of other people?"

Harry smiled. He had to admit that he was flattered and more than a little touched by Draco's obvious concern.

But on the other hand... Just because Harry was interested in getting to know his former rival better, that didn't mean he also wanted the man's pity.

"Why are you doing this, Malfoy?" he asked bluntly.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, it's not like we were ever friends."

"No," Draco admitted, "but I was hoping that might change."

"Why?"

Draco wasn't sure how to answer that. Finally, he settled for the truth, deciding Harry deserved as much after all that time. "Because I did quite a bit of thinking these past few years and oddly enough, a lot of it revolved around you, and how different things could have been between us. Maybe…" He struggled to find the right words. "I don't know, Harry, the two of us have always been so fixated on one another that sometimes I wondered—I still wonder—if that isn't the real reason why I haven't been able to let anyone else in."

Startled at the words and the raw honesty and bravery behind them, Harry dropped his fork. "Oh," was all he managed in response.

Discouraged by that less than enthusiastic reaction, Draco moved to stand. "Maybe this was all a big mistake. I'm sorry if I…"

"No!" Harry leapt up from his chair. "No, Draco... I … I think I understand what you mean."

"You do?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. And I… I'd love to have dinner with you tonight."

Draco's face softened. He sat down again. "All right. But first, let's finish breakfast, shall we? Your eggs are getting cold, Potter. And after all the trouble I went to...." He grinned again.

Harry found himself grinning back, and all he could think was that yesterday may have been his worst Valentine's Day ever, but if he played his cards right, perhaps he wouldn't have to spend another one alone.  



End file.
